Babel
by Strucky
Summary: It was a song that John would never hear again. It was a song that Sherlock would never play again. Warnings: fluff, porn, violence, character death.


Bable

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John knew this song. He had heard this song many, many, times since setting foot in 221b Baker street. He tapped the side of his cup in rhythm with the tune. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the name of it, or the composer. It was a lovely melody; one that bounced with happiness and dipped into the sadness of life. The song, John knew, was a story. He felt that he knew the story but, as to whose it was escaped him. He sat back in his chair, flicking his eyes over to Sherlock to see if he would give any indication as to what song he was playing. Sherlock had his eyes closed and his fingers danced over the neck of the violin. He drew the bow swiftly across the strings, fingers ever moving to create a beautiful vibrato.

John watched Sherlock play. He moved with each note, body swaying slightly with the movement of the bow. Many may have thought that Sherlock invested himself completely in his work as a consulting detective, but John knew better. Sherlock used his entire body to play the violin. Often John would wonder when Sherlock first picked up the instrument, then he would stow that thought away. It wasn't that he didn't want the answer, it was that he didn't want the answer just yet. Sherlock's body and mind were completely intertwined while playing. John was sure Sherlock never even thought about how to play with his body, and that, John had decided, was why he played like a master.

The song was coming to an end. John listened the the last few notes. They faded softly, like lovers whispering goodbyes. Sherlock let the violin fall from his shoulder, his eyes resting on John's. The dark haired man quirked a smile and set down the violin on the table. John warmly returned the smile.

"Who wrote that?" He asked as Sherlock reached into his pocket to check his phone.

"Humm?" Sherlock replied, not paying attention. John got up and moved over to him. He ran his fingers down the strings and listened as they echoed a lost melody. Sherlock looked away from his phone briefly.

"The song you were just playing." John said. "What's it called?"

"_End of July_," Sherlock replied then tapped out a quick text to Lestrade.

"That sounds... sad." John frowned. The song he had been listening to was a little sad, but it always ended happy. There was joy throughout the notes, something uplifting about it, something that made John want to fall in love. He rolled the name over in his mind before realizing that he had never heard the title before. It wasn't a title that Bach or Beethoven would have used, nor Chopin.

Sherlock walked away sending off another text then opening the fridge and poked at the chilled human tongues he had wrapped in plastic. John plucked a few strings, the D and A strings hummed in perfect harmony as the sound flew into the corners of the room. Sherlock shut the fridge, muttering something about the likeliness of tongues decaying pre and post mortem if they were still attached to the corpse. He spun around on his heel and pressed his hands together, then to his lips.

"Who wrote it?" John asked once more. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"The song." John prompted. "I know I've heard it many times before. I just can't remember who it's by. You play it a lot actually. Is it your favorite?"

"Yes," Sherlock said with a wicked smile. John tilted his head at the strange reaction. Sherlock quickly approached John and pressed a warm kiss to his lips. Before John could kiss back Sherlock had pulled away, the smile still lingering on his mouth.

"So it's your favorite?" John asked, uncertainty filled his voice.

"Yes, my favorite," Sherlock confirmed as he snaked a hand around John's waist. He pushed up John's shirt in the back and brushed his fingers over the skin there. John shivered and pulled in closer.

"You didn't answer my question," John sighed as Sherlock pressed an open mouth kiss to his neck. "Who wrote it?"

"I did." Sherlock whispered into John's ear. John pulled away.

"You did?" He repeated, bewildered.

"Yes," Sherlock nodded. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"No, not at all really," John conceded. "It just...well it just sounds like a love song."

"It is." Sherlock replied. Those talented hands pushed their way back under John's shirt and pressed into the soft skin of his lower back. Sherlock left a trail of kisses up John's neck, only stopping to suck at the spot beneath his ear. John bared his neck to the taller man and let out a soft moan of pleasure.

"Never thought of you as the type." John admitted.

"Nor did I," Sherlock said in a breath. "I wrote it for you."

John pulled away, leaving a good distance between them. John's mouth gaped slightly, he swallowed hard as he looked into Sherlock's clear eyes.

"You wrote that for me?" John asked, his voice more choked than he desired it to be.

"Who else would I write music for?" Sherlock muttered. "Really John, use your brain." He joked.

"Play it again." John said pulling away completely. He rushed over to the resting violin picked it up and gave it to Sherlock. Sherlock looked down at the inadament object in his hands and wondered how he had gone from having John to the violin so quickly.

"I've just played it." Sherlock commented.

"Well yes, but I wasn't listening."

"Liar." Sherlock said. He put the violin down once more and grasped John's hips and dragged him forward until they met. "You are always listening when I play, and I know that your song is your favorite. You always close your eyes when I play it. You hum along or tap your fingers. Sometimes you move your left foot in time with it. Other times I will hear you singing parts of it, even when I'm not playing. You know that song completely. As I know you completely. It's not a song you have ever heard before setting foot in this place, and it's not one you will ever hear outside of these walls. This song is for you John Watson, no one else will ever hear it, just as no one else will ever play it."

John never thought he could be this in love. Nor did he ever believe that Sherlock was capable of something so romantic. A familiar melody rang in his ears as he reached up to touch Sherlock's face. He cupped his cheek and pulled him down for a kiss. John stood on his toes to fall deeper into the kiss. He felt Sherlock's tongue run over his lips and opened his mouth willingly. John threaded his fingers through dark hair as large hands ran down his back, one daring to go much further. John let out a small gasp as Sherlock grabbed his arse.

Air became a fast issue. Sherlock broke away first. He rested his forehead against John's, deeply breathing. John let his hands fall from Sherlock's face and hair and run down the length of his chest, stopping when his fingers brushed the belt of his pants.

"My room or yours?" Sherlock asked coyly.

"Yours." John replied then bit his lip in contemplation. "Why, _End of July_?"

"It is when I first met you." Sherlock told him with a kiss. John broke into a grand smile.

"Come," he took Sherlock's hand and edged him towards the bedroom. "This is for you."

* * *

Sherlock let the door click shut before he was forced onto the bed. He grinned up at John who climbed on top of him. His knees brushed against Sherlock's thighs, sending shivers through both bodies. John pressed a hand to Sherlock's chest, urging him down. Sherlock propped himself up on his elbows, wanting to watch. Slowly and carefully John unbuttoned his lovers shirt. Every button he released invited a kiss to the newly bared chest. He popped the last one and the shirt fell, catching only on Sherlock's unmoving arms. John made quicker work of the belt. He whipped it through the belt loops then discarded it to the floor. He could feel Sherlock shaking ever so slightly as he breathed against his hardened member beneath the denim.

John pulled down the zip and helped Sherlock shimmy out of his trousers. He then pushed himself down Sherlock's body then onto the floor. Sherlock's long legs rested on either side of John's head. From his position Sherlock could only see the top of John's head and his eyes. Sherlock forced himself up further, only to fall flat back against the bed as John's mouth touched his cock. Sherlock let out a long groan of pleasure. John's mouth was one of his favorite attributes. John took great joy in being able to make Sherlock come apart like that. He bobbed his head around Sherlock, sucking lightly at the tip before taking him down as deep as he could. Sherlock flew forward. His fingers grasped at John short hair, pulling hard then releasing as he left John gasp around his cock. John pulled up, his mouth was already red and wet; if anything it made Sherlock harder. There was a question in John's eyes, that Sherlock abruptly quelled. He bent over, straining, to kiss John. He could taste himself on John's mouth, making the moment even more erotic.

"Don't make me come to soon," Sherlock told him, stroking his hair. John blushed, which Sherlock found unorthodox given the situation. John licked up the length of Sherlock's cock before taking him down his throat once more. Sherlock moaned slowly and tilted his head back in pleasure. John smiled around the hardened flesh, then hummed causing Sherlock to fall back against the bed. While deep in ecstasy Sherlock caught something, and smiled. John was humming his song.

Sherlock pulled forward and lifted John off of his cock and pulled him into another kiss, then drew him up onto the bed. There, Sherlock hastily removed John's shirt and pants. It was more difficult than it should have been, for John would not stop kissing the dark haired man. Once they were both completely and finally naked, Sherlock was happy. He ground his hips up into John's, eliciting a sharp gasp from the smaller man.

Without a word John rolled off the other man and plucked the lube from the bedside table. He quickly repositioned himself on top of Sherlock, rolling his hips to meet his lovers.

"Did you want to...or do you want me to..." John asked between harsh breaths, holding out the slick. Sherlock grabbed the little bottle, throwing John a wicked smile, before turning them over.

"Roll over." Sherlock told him. John licked his lips and obeyed.

Sherlock ran a hand all the way down John's back. John shivered at the touch. Then lips graced his shoulders and spine. John gave happy sighs as each kiss stretched lower and lower. There was a snap from the lube bottle and John caved in his back to Sherlock. Sherlock circled John's hole with a well lubed finger, gently nudging against his entrance.

"Sherlock, please." John growled from beneath him. Sherlock smiled and pushed in a finger. John moaned and his body trembled. Sherlock loved that he could tear this man apart with one finger. He moved the digit in and out then slowly curled it to where he knew John's prostate was. John gave a half hearted scream. "Sherlock! Please don't tease. Just stretch me. Please just fuck me."

Sherlock kissed John's back and gave him another finger. He loved doing this to John. If he had his way he would finger fuck the blond man until he came screaming into completion. Perhaps another day. Sherlock dosed a third finger with slick and pushed into John once more. John arched his back and pushed back. Sherlock watched with pleasure as his fingers slipped in and out of John easily. John was panting, while Sherlock's mouth had gone dry. Sherlock slowly took out his fingers and lubed himself. He placed one hand on John's hip and used the other to guide himself into his lover.

John sighed with contentment, like all he needed in the world to feel complete was Sherlock inside of him, and maybe it were true. Sherlock sunk all the way in until his legs met John's. He focused on his breathing, trying desperately not to jack his hips and fuck John like an animal. John moved first, dragging his body away from Sherlock's before slamming it back.

"Sherlock, please, please." John breathed. Sherlock knew John wanted it hard and fast, that was how he liked it, but Sherlock had other plans.

The taller man grasped John by the middle and pulled him up. John fell deeper onto his lover's cock as he was moved into a sitting position. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and pressed his chest to the blond man's back. John let his head fall to Sherlock's shoulder and raised a hand to caress the dark curls. Sherlock gently rocked his hips and John moved with him. John kissed at Sherlock's neck as the other man trailed a hand down his stomach and stroked his cock. John bit gently at the younger man's neck and moaned. Sherlock nuzzled John's hair, pressing kisses as he went.

"I love you." Sherlock breathed into John's ear.

"You too." John gasped as Sherlock's thrust hit his prostate. "Love you too."

John was then over taken by little gasps. Every thrust caused a sharp intake of breath, only to be released as a soft moan, which drove Sherlock mad with lust. They rocked together, slowly bringing each other to the edge.

"John, John, John." Sherlock kept repeating like a prayer. In the haze of sex with his partner it was the only thing his brain could concentrate on. John was the only thing that mattered, he was the only thing that would ever matter.

"Oh." John groaned. "Sherlock I'm close, I'm so close."

John's eyes were squeezed shut and his lip between his teeth. Sherlock moved slower, restraining his thrusts and letting his cock press against John's prostate for a longer time. John came with a low moan sounding into Sherlock's neck. Sherlock pushed inside his lover a few more times before he to was coming.

John allowed his weight to fall onto Sherlock, who took it with grace. The raven haired man's arms ran up and down John's body, feeling every breath he took. When his breathing leveled John placed a kiss to Sherlock's jaw. Sherlock turned to him and took his mouth.

They moved together down to the bed, Sherlock slowly slipping out of John's body. John sucked in a breath at the loss. They tangled their legs and Sherlock pulled up a sheet to cover them. John leaned in for a few more kisses before letting his eyes drift shut.

Sherlock stayed awake for awhile longer, brushing his fingers over John's beautiful face, and humming a familiar song.

* * *

Sherlock jolted awake in the middle of the night. Someone was in the flat. He turned to John who barely stirred.

"John." Sherlock whispered, reaching out a gentle hand. John's eyes fluttered open and rested on Sherlock.

"Sher-"

"Shhh." Sherlock held a finger to his lips. John tilted his head until he heard the sounds of someone in the flat. His soft eyes turned steely as he sat up. Sherlock made a motion of a gun with his hand. John shook his head and pointed to the ceiling. Sherlock frowned. Under the sheet John reach out and took Sherlock's hand. John smiled at him, trying to be reassuring. His face dropped when he heard the voice from out side the door.

"Wake up call!" Cried a shrill voice.

The door opened and Sherlock clenched his hand around John's

"My, my. Isn't this the surprise! And you know how I love surprises!"

Moriarty stood in the doorway, a sick smile carved on his face. He flicked on the light and laughed. His high pitched voice sent shivers down John's spine. Sherlock became unhappily aware of his and John's nakedness in the presence of Moriarty. Moriarty seemed to notice it too, for his eyes trailed over Sherlock, then John.

"Why Sherlock, I knew you liked your pet, but I had no idea!" Moriarty laughed.

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked, clearly enunciating each word.

"Well it's just been so long since we played." Moriarty pouted. "You never called."

"I do not want to play." Sherlock told him.

"No?" Moriarty feigned shock. "Well what about you Johnny? Did you want to play the game?"

"No." John bit out.

"Are you sure?" Jim asked as two armed men entered the room on either side of the criminal mastermind. Each had a trained gun on the two men. John swallowed hard. Sherlock let go of John's hand. John tried to grab it back but Sherlock was stepping out of the bed. He stood up and John watched the little red dot follow his every move. Without a second look to the gunmen or Moriarty he pulled on a pair of pants, throwing a pair to John as well. John shucked them on under the sheet.

"We are not playing your game. You can leave now." Sherlock said ever so nonchalantly. Jim rushed forward a snarl set on his face.

"You are always playing my game Sherlock. Never think otherwise." Moriarty spat into his face. His dark beady eyes shot over to John who stared breathless.

"Shoot him."

Blood bloomed onto the white sheets. John stared up at the ceiling. Sherlock yelled an incoherent and heart wrenching scream. He leapt onto the bed and to John's side and pressed his hands against the bullet hole in his shoulder.

"John! John my love, can you hear me?" Sherlock's voice broke as he spoke. The other men in the room faded to him as he watch the blood seep through his fingers. John's eyes came to focus on Sherlock. His body shook as he tried to speak.

"Are you ready to play?" Jim laughed from behind him. Sherlock glared over his shoulder. "Or do I have to shoot him again?"

"I'll play." Sherlock agreed.

"Oh good!" Jim clapped his hands. "Now for the first game-"

"I'll only play if you let me get him to the hospital." Sherlock interrupted.

"Oh?" Moriarty tilted his head. "That's not part of the game Sherlock."

"It's my terms." Sherlock growled out. John let out a cry underneath him which Sherlock tried to quell.

"Oh! Oh my! You are in _love_ with him!" Moriarty said with glee. "Oh that makes the game so much more fun! Really Sherlock I never thought you the type to fall for such a human emotion. Take the pet." Jim commanded his men.

"No!" Sherlock shouted. One of the gunmen pressed his gun to Sherlock's head. "You will have to kill me before I let you take him."

"Well that would be no fun." Jim frowned. "Shoot the good doctor in the leg.

The gunman moved his gun from Sherlock's head down to where John's leg was and pulled the trigger. John screamed. Sherlock roared as he attacked the man who shot John. He was able to wrangle his gun away and once he had it he shot the man in his chest. The man fell to the ground and Sherlock turned with the gun raised to face the others. Sherlock faltered as the second armed man had his own gun against John's head.

"This is not how I had planned our reunion going, Sherlock." Moriarty shook his head.

Sherlock couldn't focus on what Moriarty had just said, he couldn't tear his eyes away from John. His eyes were hazy and his body jolted with each stuttered breath.

"Please," Sherlock begged. "Please."

"Please? Sherlock I'm surprised at you. Resorting to begging, begging for this?" Jim waved a hand at John. "What could possibly be so special about this one?"

"Please." Sherlock tried once again.

"Humm, you know, I think I have a new game." Moriarty smiled, he pulled out his phone and quickly sent a message. "Now Sherlock I'm going to take your pet. If you can find him you can have him back, if you can't, well, use your imagination."

"No. He is no part of this. It is just you and me Jim." Sherlock tried to be strong but his voice betrayed him. "You can take me. Please take me, leave him."

"Oh Sherlock," Moriarty smiled sweetly at him. "This is going to be. So. Much. Fun."

With that another man entered the room and shot Sherlock in the chest. He had only a moment to pull out the dart before the darkness took him.

When he woke he was looking into his brother's eyes. Sherlock forced himself up. His world spun violently. He did not know how long he had been out, but the drug had not seemed to be out of his system yet. Mycroft helped his brother to stand without a word. Sherlock looked over to the bed. Blood. There was so much blood on the sheets. He stumbled over to the bed and reached out a hand. His fingers lightly touched the blood soaked fabric. He needed to find John. Sherlock tuned and stumbled towards the door. Mycroft held up a hand and stopped his brother.

"Sherlock. I need you to stay in here." Mycroft said somberly. The younger Holmes brother's eyes flashed to him. Mycroft sounded sorry, he sounded defeated. What could possibly be outside that made him so...

Sherlock pushed past his brother and ran out into the living room. Mycroft followed to pick up the pieces.

Sherlock dropped to the floor. He couldn't move. His body felt on fire yet his mind was cold and void.

Mycroft sank down next to him, placing a hand on his younger brother's shoulder.

"Sherlock please, you do not need to see this." Mycroft told him softly. "Come outside, I'll take you home."

Tears silently made their way down Sherlock's face. They ran over his cheeks and down to his neck.

John's body hung from the ceiling. Blood from the gunshot wounds dripped down to cover the floor with red.

Sherlock could not breathe. He couldn't breathe, _**he couldn't breathe,**_ **he couldn't breathe**.

Mycroft pulled him up and moved him out of 221b Baker street.

Sherlock stood outside the flat. People ran around him in panics. There were cop cars parked not far away. Lestrade was standing over there with the rest of his department. Mycroft had not let anyone but his most trusted men into the scene. Sherlock took a few weak steps away form 221b before letting gravity claim his body. He screamed, hollow and achingly so.

Strong bracing hands grabbed his shoulders. Lestrade knelt down next to his friend. Even though the detective did not know what had happened he knew it was bad. Sherlock sobbed into Greg's chest. Instinctively the detective wrapped his arms around the younger man.

Greg looked up at the older Holmes brother, who only hung his head. Lestrade slowly put together the pieces and held Sherlock tighter.

With the help of Mycroft and Greg, Sherlock was placed in a car. He was driven away from 221b. He watched as cars and building passed, and felt nothing.

It was daylight outside, but Sherlock could not see the sun.

* * *

Okay guys, this started out as pure fluff, absolutely sweet piece of lovey dovey fluff, then I added the porn (this is first real porn I've ever written actually :/) then it got dark. Really dark, then it got worse. So if you liked this and want more darkness I have a plot line going and am willing to continue with it. Thanks for reading.


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